The Encore of Nina Sayers
by SCUgirl2013
Summary: A physicaly and mentally battered Nina tries to pick up the pieces of her life in the wake of her fateful performance. However, doing so means once again dancing the role that almost destroyed her.
1. Chapter 1: The Aftermath

Disclaimer: None of this is mine, all the characters, setting, ect. belong to Darren Arronofsky and Fox Searchlight Pictures. I'm not getting paid: I write for fun, not money.

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The first thing that seeped into her awareness was pain; a simultaneously aching and stabbing pain that originated at a point deep within her abdomen and snaked merciless tendrils to her feet, her head, crisscrossing and curling around each other, encasing her body in a web of agony. She couldn't surpress the groan that escaped her lips, only then becoming aware of the fact that her teeth had clamped down around something hard, something that forced its' way past her lips and down her throat. Her eyes flew open in panic, squeezing momentarily shut against the harsh glare of the overhead lights, and she began to gag against her body's invader.

"She's awake!" She heard, and then a plump, rosy complected woman dressed in sterile green scrubs appeared within her field of vision. "Nina? Nina?" she said. "I need you to relax, it's just a tube to help you breathe, we're taking it out now." A strong pair of hands held down her wrists; another held her ankles. Her back arched as she felt the tube slide its way past her throat and out of her mouth, and she fell back, coughing and retching, her sliced abdominal muscles screaming in protest. Almost instantly something was slipped into her nostrils. The coughing fit subsided, and Nina Sayers finally felt some measure of lucidity creeping back into her muddled brain. She was in….a hospital? Yes, this was definitely a hospital room, albeit one that was unfamiliar to her. She looked at the woman, and for the first time noticed the name badge that she wore. Sandy, RN, it proclaimed, under the logo of Roosevelt Hospital.

"What happened?" Nina croaked, dimly noticing that her throat felt like sandpaper.

"You're in the ICU," Sandy chirped, bustling around the room. Nina pressed the controls on the bed to raise herself into a sitting position. "You were brought here right after the surgery." The woman's incessant peppiness was beginning to grate on Nina's nerves, but she supposed it came with the territory of being a nurse in an intensive care unit. "You sliced your gut up something fierce, but the docs were able to patch you up. That Mr. Leroy of yours brought you here right after the performance."

Performance? What performance? Nina struggled to make sense of the woman's words for a moment, but then the floodgates of her memory opened, and image after image began to assault her battered mind.

Being cast as the Swan Queen, her shock and elation after she was sure that the role was going to Veronica. The horror of the word WHORE smeared on the bathroom mirror in garish red lipstick.

Dancing, struggling through endless nights to tap into what she needed to inhabit the duality of her role.

The hallucinations that became both increasingly vivid, and increasingly terrifying.

And Lily. Lily, casual, sensual, seductive Lily with the I-don't-give-a-damn attitude, the girl whom Nina had been so sure was out to destroy her.

But in the end, she hadn't needed to, had she? Nina had done that all on her own.

She remembered dancing with Lily at the club, and the fury of finding her dancing Nina's role the next morning in rehearsal.

She remembered fighting with Lily after finding her in her dressing room, smashing her body into the mirror, struggling to free herself from the fingers that wrapped around her throat in a vice grip. She remembered viciously plunging a shard of broken mirror into Lily's midsection, and the terrified, choked sobs that escaped from her own throat as she watched Lily cough up blood and gasp her last breaths.

And then, Lily coming to her in her dressing room, congratulating her on her performance, the moment of horrifying clarity as she realized that Lily had never been in her dressing room, she had, in fact, stabbed _herself_.

And finally the elation of knowing that she had achieved what she'd been working towards since she was a child; that elusive, hypnotic, transcendent quality known in the ballet world as perfection.

Nina reached a hand, the one without the I.V. hookup, under her hospital gown and felt the pressure dressing that wound its way tightly around her abdomen. She closed her eyes in horror, and with a groan sank back down onto the sheets. She had been perfect.

And if she hadn't actually killed herself to achieve it, she had come goddamn close.

"Oh, honey," Sandy murmured, seeing her distress. "It'll be alright, there's no permanent damage done. We'll have you back up and dancing again in no time."

Did Nina even want that anymore? Of course she did, ballet was her passion, her whole life.

And very nearly her death.

"That's up to Thomas."

"What's up to me?" Thomas Leroy strode into the small room. Even now, off the job, he exuded an aura of fierce determination and a manipulative, almost malicious cunning. It seemed to ooze from his every pore, knocking Nina breathless as his presence filled the room.

"Nothing, Thomas," She said tiredly. She was still in pain, and her energy reserves were rapidly ebbing.

"How are you feeling?" Thomas asked. Nina couldn't tell if he was genuinely concerned about her, or if he was simply disappointed that his grand production had lost its' star.

"Fine. I'm fine, Thomas." Nina replied, beginning to bristle.

"Look where you are, Nina. You're anything but fine." Thomas countered bluntly in his thick French accent. Nina tried to contradict him, but found that the words tasted bitter on her tongue before they had even formed on her lips. "Why did you do it?" Thomas asked.

"I-I don't know. I was confused….." Nina stammered. "I just wanted to be perfect."

Thomas blew out a frustrated sigh. "You almost fucking _died_ to be perfect." Nina felt his eyes on her, and a hot blush crept up her face under his scrutiny. "Look," he continued. "You were perfect. You were absolutely perfect. You learned to be the swan. Now, you have to learn how to contain her. That's something I can't teach you."

Nina opened her mouth to ask him what in the world he meant- there was no way on Earth she would actually be dancing the part again, would she?- when Thomas answered her question for her. "In six months we're doing an encore performance of _Swan Lake_. That should be more than enough time for you to recover and to train up again. You've shown me that you have the talent it takes to be the company's principle. Now show me that you have the fortitude." He turned around and walked towards the hall. As he reached the door, he turned to her. "It's time to put your life back together again," he said softly. And with that, he left, closing the door behind him.

Nina felt like screaming until her lungs bled and her throat was raw. There was no way in the world he could put her through this again, was there? She had almost given her life for this part. That was more than enough, she decided firmly. It wasn't until later that night that she had calmed her tumultuous emotions enough to weigh her options. She was sick; last night's performance had made that painfully, and very nearly lethally, obvious. She had run from her demons for most of her life, and yet, they had chased her anyway, chased her until she had almost died. Was it possible that dancing this part one last time was the way to face them? She hadn't considered that before. Of course, there was the other possibility. Her mind had fractured under the strain of dancing the Black Swan. She wasn't sure that she could endure six more months without it shattering completely. And yet….And yet, hadn't she just admitted that she needed to face down the demons that had been plaguing her, since even before she was cast as the Queen? Hadn't she just admitted to herself that dancing the role again just might be the way to do it? She had learned to inhabit the Swan. If she could learn to contain her…. Perhaps Thomas Leroy was right. It was time to put her life back together again.


	2. Chapter 2: First Steps

The subway train's brakes shrieked, and it ground to a halt at a station on the west side of Manhattan's Chelsea neighborhood. Nina, a piece of paper clutched in her hand, exited the train. She had been released from Roosevelt Hospital a week prior, after a stay that ultimately lasted two weeks, and, unfortunately, involved a consultation with the staff psychiatrist. Her would was healing well; she had been fastidious about cleaning and bandaging it, not that she'd had much say in the matter. Her mother had spent the week since her discharge hovering over her virtually around the clock. Under Erica Sayers' watchful eyes she had carefully cleaned and dressed the wound several times per day and slept for nearly sixteen hours out of twenty-four, only leaving her bed to use the washroom and to shower. The little time that she had spent awake was spent carefully counting out and sorting medications, of which there were now several. She was on a six-week course of a broad-spectrum antibiotic to ward off Tetanus as well as any number of other possible pathogens, codeine for the pain, and, courtesy of the psychiatrist, a high dose of antidepressants, a mood stabilizer, and a benzodiazepine to control for anxiety. Adding insult to injury, she would be required to attend therapy sessions twice a week as a condition set by the psychiatrist for her discharge, as well as by Thomas Leroy as a condition of her continued employment within the company.

"Nina," he had said, "I can't have someone on my stage who could be a danger to herself and the other dancers," He'd said when her first reaction had been a flat-out refusal. And so, reluctantly, she had agreed. Her first appointment was scheduled for later in the week.

All of this was carefully presided over by Erica Sayers.

Nina had lived with her mother's constant infantilizing all of her life; she didn't quite know why she had suddenly begun to chafe under it now. But then again, she'd been chafing for months, hadn't she? Ever since she'd been cast, really. But she had a sneaking suspicion that her mother's subtle and not-so-subtle attempts to control and manipulate her had been at least partially responsible for her rather spectacular breakdown, and she'd be on the stage again in just over five months. She'd made a commitment to the company to be ready, as well as to herself to grab some control of her life.

And she knew the perfect place to start.

So Nina Sayers exited the subway tunnel and glanced down at the slip of paper in her hands, following the broad streets and avenues of Chelsea to the address she had taken over the phone and carefully transcribed. A slim woman with a messy shock of bleached blonde hair, flashing black eyes, and dressed in a crisp black business suit and matching pumps was there to meet her.

"You must be Nina!" She greeted her. "You're Thomas Leroy's friend, right?" She held out her hand for Nina to shake.

"Not exactly," Nina said, a shy smile playing across her lips. She took the proffered hand. "He's my director; I'm a dancer in his company." In fact, when Nina had mentioned to Thomas a few days prior that she was interested in real estate, he had referred her to the woman who'd sold him his own apartment.

"Well, he spoke very highly of you," the woman said warmly, and Nina began to feel a little more at ease in the woman's presence. "I'm Vivian Schneider. Shall we go up and take a look at the apartment?"

They passed the building's super and rode an elevator to the eleventh floor of the building, where Vivian Schneider let them into apartment 1123 C. She led Nina through its' rooms, enthusiastically delivering a sales pitch, which Nina, truthfully, barely heard. The apartment was spacious by Manhattan's standards, with open, airy rooms and large windows that offered an eye-catching view of the Hudson River. Unlike the dark, claustrophobic apartment on the Upper West Side that she currently shared with her mother, the walls were a pristine white, the floors made of cheerful honey colored wood. It had an extra bedroom, which Nina really didn't need, but she decided, if she installed floor to celing mirrors and a_ barre_, could be converted into a perfect home dance studio.

She hoped the downstairs neighbors wouldn't mind.

Chelsea was a little farther from Lincoln Center than her current home, but, Nina decided, that probably wouldn't be too much of a problem. It might add an extra half-hour to commute, but the prospect of being out from under her mother's thumb was well worth the extra effort. And her financial situation had improved. Her new spot as the company's principle dancer had come with a significant increase in her salary, and she received a larger portion of the receipts on top of her regular salary than she had as a member of the corps. She still wasn't back at work; she had taken a six-week leave of absence in order to give her body the time it needed to heal. But, she was expected to return in another three weeks, and her regular income would start flowing again. She surveyed the apartment one more time. It was a little pricey, but she could afford it if she lived frugally for a while.

Nina hadn't mentioned the fact that she was considering moving out to her mother; she was sure the news would be met with a less-than-enthusiastic, if not downright hostile response. In spite of her controlling nature, Nina loved Erica, and the last thing she wanted to do was to further damage their already fractured relationship. And truthfully, Nina was a little unsure of whether or not she was quite ready to live on her own. But she was still the Swan Queen. She was going to be dancing the part again in twenty two weeks, and she was certain that she couldn't handle the relentless pressure that came with the territory of living under her mother's roof. Thomas, she was sure, would continue to be demanding and diminutive, and that was more than enough pressure. The role had almost destroyed her once; she didn't think she'd survive a second time.

And that made her decision easy.

Nina smiled softly to herself. "It's perfect," she said.


	3. Chapter 3: Falling out

Nina arrived back at her apartment later that evening, more tired and sore than she wanted to admit, but she'd be damned if she was going to spend the rest of the day sleeping. She was still riding the high of signing the mortgage on the Chelsea apartment. Escrow was closing in two weeks; two more weeks of living under her mother's god-forsaken roof. Nina still hadn't the slightest idea as to what she was going to tell her. It had been perfectly clear to Nina from the time she was a small child that Erica considered her to be the reason for her own ballet career's premature end, and in recent months she'd become increasingly aware of the fact that her mother seemed determined to keep her in a state of eternal childhood as a way of justifying that sacrifice in her own mind. She was sure that the news that she was moving out would be welcomed with all the enthusiasm of going for a root canal. Add the news that she would be dancing in Swan Lake again, another piece of news with which she had been less than forthcoming, and she had all the makings of a very volatile evening on her hands. Nina inwardly groaned; the thought was almost unbearable. Perhaps she just…..wouldn't tell, at least not for a while. It might make the intervening two weeks bearable. But then, Thomas' voice broke into her mind.

"You could be brilliant, but you're a coward."

Keeping this from Erica was the coward's way out, and Nina new that.

Not to mention the fact that it was simply delaying the inevitable.

Nina expelled a resigned sigh. She'd have to grit her teeth and brace herself for the storm that was almost sure to come. "Mom?" She called out. "Mom, are you home?"

"Nina?" came a voice from behind her. Nina spun around, startled at her mother's voice. "Where have you been?"

"I went out for a few hours. I was sick of being cooped up in the apartment, and I wanted to get some fresh air." Nina said softly, and not altogether untruthfully. She had been feeling stronger in the last few days, and had become increasingly bored with Erica's insistence that she remain in bed.

Erica's features hardened for a moment, but then softened again. "I know." She said softly. "It's dull being bedridden after an injury. God knows I understand. But honey, you need-"

"Rest, I know. " Nina interjected. "I promise I'll get some after dinner."

Great, just great. She was back to her shrinking-violet meekness.

Erica smiled and stroked her face. "Sweet girl," she murmured. Nina bristled slightly under the hated moniker, but said nothing. She hung her pink woolen overcoat on the hook by the door and followed Erica into the kitchen.

"Up, Erica commanded, patting one of the barstools.

"I'm fine," Nina protested. "Mom, why don't you let me make dinner?" Erica shot her a surprised look, but Nina began throwing together a salad; carrots, snap peas, tomatoes, no dressing. She had to maintain weight, after all. Erica, in contrast, smothered hers in Thousand Island.

"This is good." she complimented.

"Thanks," Nina replied. The note of trepidation in her voice wasn't lost on her mother.

"Something wrong?" She asked.

"No, nothing."

"Well, you're acting strangely."

Nina sighed. If she was going to do it, now was the time. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, and for a moment, she felt as though she was going to be sick.

"Thomas came to see me in the hospital." Nina began softly.

"Really? What did he say?" Erica inquired. Nina inwardly began to panic, her heart beginning to skip and skitter like a jackrabbit, her throat going desert dry. And in a moment of brutal clarity, she knew she couldn't do this. Nina Sayers, the innocent, fragile, white swan couldn't do this.

But perhaps there was another who could.

"I'm dancing Swan Queen again," she declared with uncharacteristic boldness. The panic vanished as quickly as it had come.

Erica's features instantly hardened. "What?" She asked, her voice lowering dangerously.

"You heard me, Mom." Nina said firmly. Where was this coming from? This wasn't like her at all.

"No." Erica uttered in a whisper that left Nina with no doubt that her mother's mood was rapidly going from dangerous to deadly. "That role destroyed you. You can't-"

"I can, and I am." Nina countered. "Thomas told me that if I dance it again, I'll never be stuck at the back of a corps again. I'll be the new principle."

"And then what, Nina? You spend your life slaving, _self-destructing_, only to be thrown out on your ass in a few years like Beth MacIntire?"

Erica had as good as spat the words at her, and they stung more deeply than she'd even admit to herself, let alone to her mother, if only because ever since Thomas had announced Beth's retirement, Nina had harbored the fear at the back of her mind that one day, maybe, he would do the same to her.

"But that's all you ever wanted for me, isn't it, Mom? To see your sweet girl at the top? For me to succeed where _you failed?_" Had she really just said that?

Erica's eyes widened in shock, and her mouth tightened in anger. "What's gotten into you?" She hissed.

Nina knew exactly what had gotten into her.

Suddenly, all the fight seemed to leave her mother. "Nina, you can't handle this. You know you can't. You can't take the pressure." She dropped her head into her hands, raking her fingers through her hair.

"I know," Nina softly acknowledged, breathing deeply to prepare herself to say what she had to say next. "That's why I went to Chelsea today. I bought an apartment."

Erica's head snapped up. "_What?_" she gasped.

"I bought an apartment," Nina repeated. "Escrow closes in two weeks. I'm moving out."

"Nina-"

"I can't take the pressure of living _here_ anymore, Mom!" Nina almost shouted. "All the insane demands, the lack of privacy, you treat me like I'm twelve! I mean, for god's sake, you take my earrings off before I go to bed at night!"

Erica's voice once again lowered dangerously. "Do you have any idea what I've given up for you? I gave my _life_ for you!"

"Of course I do, Mom. You remind me every day." Suddenly, the anger, the aggression, the _strength_ left her as quickly as it had come, and she was left once again feeling panicked and vulnerable. "I need to rest. I'm going to get some sleep." She said tiredly, and then, picking up a piece of paper, scribbled the address in Chelsea onto it. "This is my new address: come by anytime as long as you call me first," Nina whispered, handing the piece of paper to her mother. Erica suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, broke down into harsh, racking sobs. Nina couldn't bear it anymore. She ran into her room, closing the door behind her.

Once inside, she leaned against the door, breathing heavily. What in the world had she done? She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't alienate her mother, and yet here she was, doing an admirable job of just that. She threw herself on her bed and cried herself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4: Demons

"Moving," Nina thought to herself glumly, "Is always a great idea….until you move." The last forty eight hours had been spent in a flurry of frenetic activity, purchasing, assembling, and installing the bare essentials needed to make the place livable. Thankfully, there hadn't been much to take from her former home on the Upper West Side; just a few boxes of clothing. She had, however, followed through on her idea of converting the spare bedroom into a dance studio, and installed two floor-to-ceiling mirrors on adjacent walls and a _barre_ on the wall opposite the smaller of the two. Her shoes were neatly lined up on a rack in the room's small closet, extra ribbons and a sewing kit stored in plastic bins. Tonight would be the first night she would dance here, the first night she would make this place hers.

Tomorrow would also be Nina's first day back at work since her performance in Swan Lake five weeks previously. Her injury was very nearly healed. The stitches had been removed, and the scar had faded from a vivid, angry pink to a thin, translucent white line. The pain had, for the most part subsided, and she had been off of the codeine for just over a week. Physically, she knew that apart from some muscle atrophy she was healthy and strong.

Which did nothing to change the fact that, if she was being honest with herself, the prospect of returning to ballet daunted her.

Nina had always been high strung. The extremely competitive world of ballet had a way of transforming previously good-natured people into neurotic wrecks, and Nina herself had been no exception. With the pressure of a leading role and her mother's constant scrutiny added onto her already over-stressed psyche, the strain of holding herself together had eaten at her nerves like acid.

And in the end, she hadn't held herself together very well had she? Not well at all…..her hand came down, lightly brushing her abdomen, and she fingered the thin ridge of scar tissue there that she could just barely feel through the leotard she wore.

Well, this time would be different, she decided firmly, it had to be. She yanked a pair of shoes out of the closet and strapped them on. She'd start with the Coda, she decided. It was the most difficult sequence of the ballet to perform. Many seasoned dancers had trouble with it, and therefore, it seemed the logical place to begin working. She allowed her body to spin into the series of fouettes, the turns coming in quick, snapping succession. Unbidden, Thomas's voice broke into her mind, screaming at her. "Attack it! Attack it! Attack it! Come on!" Hadn't that been what he had wanted? Well then, attack it she would. Once again, Nina dug deep inside herself, trying to find that place, that _something_that had seemed to take up residence in her body that night at Lincoln Center and sweep the fragile, innocent girl away. The fouettes were more aggressive now, more sensual, and Nina gave herself over to them, gave in once more to the movement until she caught a flash of something in the mirror out of the corner of her eye that made her breath catch in her throat. She spun to a stop, her breath coming in short, staccato bursts. What she saw standing before her in the mirror was the reflection of a tall, long limbed dancer dressed in a pale pink leotard and grey sweatpants. Her hair was coiled into a tight ballerina bun at the back of her head, and her skin slicked with a thin sheen of sweat. Nothing unusual there. But just for a moment, she could have sworn she saw a different reflection, one dressed in black feathers and tulle netting, possessing a menacing orange eyed stare.

The next morning Nina climbed the steps at Lincoln Center and crossed the broad courtyard to the stage door entrance. She had barely walked through the door when she heard a high pitched shriek.

"_Nina!_" Lily squealed, and practically threw herself at Nina, flinging her arms around her neck. "Lily," Nina muttered weakly, clumsily returning the embrace of her one time rival. Had Lily ever been out to sabotage her? She still wasn't entirely sure, but somehow, she was now inclined to doubt it. "Jesus, Nina, you scared the _shit_ out of us!" Lily exclaimed in her characteristically irreverent manner. Nina couldn't help the rare laugh that bubbled up. "Listen! A laugh! An actual laugh!" Lily exclaimed, as though she had just spotted the holy grail, eliciting more laughter from Nina. She was, after all, notoriously uptight. "Are you alright? Jeez, we thought you'd never come back!"

"Well, here I am," Nina said, smiling shyly. "Never better."

"Good, because we have a little surprise for you," Lily said. "Come on."

And the next thing she knew, Lily's hands were at the small of her back, propelling her down the corridor. "Wait-Lily-What-" Nina spluttered, her heels trying to dig into the cement, but finding no purchase.

"Come _on_!"

Dread coiled in the pit of Nina's stomach; the last time she'd seen Lily this excited she'd slipped Ecstasy into her drink. But the relentless pressure forcing her forward prevented her from doing anything, and so, resigned, Nina allowed herself to be steered into the community studio. The blast of noise that met her nearly knocked her backwards, and almost instantly she was accosted by a swarm of dancers, all chattering excitedly, hugging her, patting her on the back. She glanced towards the mirror, where a large banner had been artfully draped, proclaiming "Welcome Back, Nina!" in bold red lettering. Nina was stunned; she had received several cards and bouquets throughout her convalescence, but she had never expected this sort of reception, particularly not from a troupe of cutthroat ballerinas. And while she was very flattered, she was more than a little overwhelmed. Still, she had to push herself, didn't she? So for the first time in her life she dove into the fray, and once she had relaxed, she actually caught herself enjoying the laughter of her fellow dancers. They may have been rivals, but at the end of the day, they were all there for a shared love of their art.

The crowd disbursed about a half-hour later and headed towards their respective dressing rooms. Nina followed the corridors towards her own, the room once belonging to Beth MacIntire. It was Nina's first time in the room since the night of the performance. The full-body length mirror had been replaced, the fragments of broken glass that had littered the floor long since swept up by the maintenance crews. That was good; in some small way it helped to drive out the memories of the horror she had endured in this room. There was nothing left of her personal effects, but Thomas had assured her that they had been stowed in the safe in the closet. Not that there was anything particularly valuable or worth stealing. She wouldn't bother hanging up the leotards she had packed in a duffel bag; she'd get to that later, she decided. Conspicuously absent were the shrugs she had worn at her mother's insistence. Thankfully, the high doses of antidepressants she was currently taking had done wonders for curbing her habit of scratching at her shoulder blade.

Even if they had done absolutely nothing in the way of calming her frazzled nerves.

The memories of the last time she had been in this room were hovering just at the edge of her consciousness, threatening to wrap icy tentacles of fear around her heart. It was almost as though the demons that slept so close to her heart had deserted her body and taken up residence in this all-too-familiar chamber. Nina's skin prickled at the thought and a shiver slithered its' way down her spine.

"Quit being ridiculous, she mentally chided herself. It was a simple dressing room, and though it held its' share of painful memories, she could certainly use this room for its' intended purpose without drowning in them. Nina rapidly changed into her leotard and tights, not allowing herself to further dwell on the night of the performance. She was a dancer; she was here to dance, and by god, she would. She turned to leave.

_Sweet girl…_

Nina whipped around at the sound of the voice and staggered back, terror closing its' fingers around her throat. For there in the full-length mirror she saw her own reflection clad in the feathered black tutu, eyes the color of a blood orange flashing ice-cold venom, mouth contorted into a cruel, malicious smile.


	5. Chapter 5: Odile

"_No, oh God no…._" Nina's panicked mind wailed, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the apalling apparition, her breath coming in choked, terrified gasps. "_It's not real…it's just my imagination…..it's just another hallucination…..it's not real….." _Somehow, the thought was even more disquieting.

_"What's happening to me?"_

Nina opened her eyes and dragged them upwards to confront the mirror, only to see a pair of alarmed brown eyes gazing back at her. If she could have, she would have laughed; of course there was nothing there but her own reflection. The black swan was nothing but a figment of her own imagination.

Or more precisely, that of Pytor Ilyitch Tchaikovsky.

Nina swayed a bit in front of the mirror, a gesture the reflection dutifully followed. There was nothing out of the ordinary; nothing whatsoever. If Nina had been able, she would have laughed in relief. But as it was, she was too frightened, too confused. And she was tired, so soulfully weary of fighting off the hallucinations that had been plaguing her for months now, each one more bone-chillingly frightening than the one before it. She sank to the ground in a shivering heap, wrapping her long arms around herself, trying to regain control of her breathing and, more importantly, her mental equilibrium.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a knock on her door. Groaning, Nina got up to answer it, and was somewhat surprised to see Lily.

"Hey Nina…." She said, and then trailed off. "Nina?"

"Lily." Nina said, inwardly wincing at the curtness of her reply. "What are you doing here?"

"Thomas sent me to find you. He said to meet him in the principle's studio in five." Lily replied, a look of concern on her face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Nina lied. The words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

"Yeah, and I'm Hillary Clinton," Lily countered easily, pushing her way past Nina and taking a seat in the chair in front of the vanity. Nina almost envied the easy confidence that she exuded. "So….what's up?" Lily asked.

"Nothing. Everything's" alright," Nina protested.

"Nina, didn't we just go through this? You're anything but-"

"Lily, I really don't want to talk about it," Nina broke in.

Lily nodded slowly "Okay," She said softly, and Nina could tell that she was hurt at being dismissed. Nothing she could do about that. "Well, Lily said, then let's get you up to the studio before Thomas sends out bloodhounds." Nina climbed to her feet and allowed Lily to steer her from the room and down the corridors, still feeling as though her veins contained ice water rather than blood. She drew in several deep breaths in a vain attempt to steady the frantic beating of her heart.

"You're sure you don't want to talk?" Lily asked. Nina shook her head. "Whatever this is, you'll get through it," Lily whispered into her ear, and with a small shove, pushed her into the studio.

"Nice of you to join us, Nina," Thomas Leroy's voice reverberated against the brick walls of the small studio. Nina couldn't quite tell if he was being facetious or not, but that wasn't unusual for Thomas, and Nina had long since decided that the energy of trying to decide was wasted.

"What are we working on?" Nina took the fear of the past few minutes and pushed it into the periphery of her mind. During rehearsals, Nina was nothing if not the consummate professional, and she wasn't about to let a few minutes of panic ruin rehearsal.

"We'll start with the Black Swan variation," Thomas clarified. "It's been the more challenging of the two, so it's as good a place as any to start."

Nina nodded, and took up position with David, her co-star.

"Maestro," Thomas commanded.

The music started, and Nina lost herself in it; lost all sense of herself, all sense of space and time. If there was anything she had learned from the experience of dancing the role of the Swan Queen, it was that control was overrated; her technique was solid, and she knew that. She supposed she had always known that. But what had been lacking from her dancing, from her _life_ for far too long, was passion. And so, for these few minutes, the horror of the last few months melted away, and she allowed herself to simply be swept away by the thrill of dancing.

That is, until Thomas interjected, shattering both the spell and her concentration.

"That was….absolutely ecstatic," he said, and Nina's face lit up with a smile. "But it wasn't sexual." Her smile crumbled. "Did you even feel David's touch?" Thomas asked. Truthfully, Nina had scarcely noticed what David had been doing; she had been too caught up in her own private little thrill of dancing. "How is it that you can put on such a sensual performance one night, and be so frigid the next time you rehearse the part?" Thomas' voice held a note of something that came dangerously close to derision.

Nina wanted to scream out in frustration, both at Thomas and at herself; Thomas for his unforgiving, demanding nature, and herself because she knew exactly why she had reverted to her previous frigidity. She was deathly afraid. Connecting to the role once had meant enduring months of brutally terrifying hallucinations, one of which had ended with a shard of mirror buried in her abdomen. And while she didn't remember the pain, she could vividly recall the sensation of the warm, slick blood gushing out beneath her hands, struggling to remain conscious even as her very life leaked out between her fingers.

And now, to make matters even more alarming, she had just hallucinated again, not once, but twice within the span of the last twenty-four hours.

"Go back and do it again," Thomas commanded. Nina numbly obeyed, taking up position with David. Not five minutes had elapsed before Nina was once again commanded to repeat the movement. The next time, she was at least allowed to complete it, only to see Thomas shaking his head, disappointment clouding his glacial blue eyes. "Nina-"

"I know, Thomas, okay?" The words had escaped almost in a snarl, something she would have expected more from Lily than herself. "David, let's do it again." This time, she would have to abandon herself; she was fed up with the frustration, the incessant pressure. The thought alone was enough to send tiny rivulets of fear coursing down her spine, and suddenly, she felt as though all the warmth had been unexpectedly sucked from the small studio. But she was a dancer, after all, and had long since become accustomed to the fact that it would be every bit as mentally punishing as it was physically. So she dutifully took up position with David, searching for the dark, primal corner of her own mind where she knew the black swan resided. And even before she started dancing, she knew that this time would be different; this time she would be able to connect to Odile's raw sexuality. She was acutely aware of David's strong hands on her body; her skin seemed to tingle with a sudden electric charge. She felt as though she had grabbed a hold of a live wire, and then suddenly, Nina was sublimely, blissfully lost.

Nina ended the dance just before the Coda, panting with exertion and a built up heat that she didn't think had anything to do with the physical energy she had just expended. She glanced towards Thomas.

"That was….better, Nina," he said. For the second time that day, Nina felt the frustration creeping up her skin. "It was better. But if you really want to soar, you need to let go." Hadn't she just done that? Well, no…not entirely. It had certainly felt like it at the time, but in retrospect, Nina knew that she hadn't been able to quiet the voice of fear. Her torn mind just hadn't quite been ready to face the beautifully lethal disaster that was the black swan. "Let's break here for today," Thomas said, sighing in a momentary concession of defeat. "Nina, you've been away from this for six weeks; you need to build your strength back gradually or you'll injure yourself. We'll work on going a little longer each day." Nina opened her mouth to protest, but one glance from Thomas told her that he would have none of it. "David, I'll have Lily partner you for the rest of the day. She's the alternate; she should practice the role a bit too."

For once, Nina didn't bristle at the mention of Lily. She took it as a good sign; perhaps she was one the road to recovery after all. The thought cheered her up somewhat as she rode the subway back to her apartment. She checked her watch; it was 5:30. More than enough time. Once she got back, Nina did not rest, as she had been ordered, but instead headed into her small studio to dance. She practiced for hours, long into the night, until at last she crawled into her bed and fell into an exhausted sleep.


	6. Chapter 6: Distraction

**Authors' Note: Greetings, fellow citizens of the World Wide Web! A big THANK YOU to the five people who have so far reviewed my story. Keep 'em coming, guys. For those of us who have posted our work for God and all the world to see, there's nothing more rewarding than seeing people enjoy it. **

* * *

The Odette variation came to Nina so easily; she embodied everything that the White Swan was to the point that dancing her was as natural for her as breathing. That was why Nina chose to practice the part today. It was Saturday, her day off, and after yet another week spent in utter aggravation repeating the Odile variation until she thought she would be crushed by the pressure, she had decided that she needed a day to regroup. Which was not to say that she wasn't driven. It was noon, and she had already been practicing for four hours. Ballet was something of an obsession for Nina; there was very little in her life that didn't revolve around performances, rehearsals, the attainment of perfection in her dancing. She had achieved it once, and though she was struggling, she'd be damned if she was going to let it slip away from her.

Which was, of course, why she routinely pushed herself to the point of exhaustion.

These days, when Nina looked in the mirror she barely recognized herself. She had always been thin; ballet fostered body types that bordered on the anorexic, and often crossed over. But these days, even Nina was surprised at how much weight she had lost. Her face had developed deep hollows under her cheekbones, and if she looked in the mirror, she could count her ribs. She had been eating foods that were calorie-rich by the standards of a ballet dancer, but half of these rushed up past her burning throat and out through her open mouth. Not that she did it intentionally; she had never considered what she did as purging. It was just that, more often than not, her stomach was tied up in nervous knots, and it simply rebelled against anything she asked it to digest. Between that and her almost compulsive practicing, she could almost feel the strength emptying from her bones.

And she would be on the stage again in less than five months.

Nina glanced one more time in the long mirror, checking her posture as she went into a deep plié from fifth position followed by a long, slow développé when the doorbell rang. Nina went to answer it, and, to her surprise saw Lilly, dressed more casually than she'd ever seen her in beat up sneakers, faded blue jeans, and a worn grey sweatshirt embossed with the logo of the San Francisco Ballet School, her hair pulled back into a loose, careless ponytail. Lily's eyes widened when she saw Nina dressed in a workout leotard and _pointe_ shoes. "It's our day off, and you're still practicing?" Lily asked, her voice dripping with incredulity.

"Well, you know…practice makes perfect," Nina said, waving Lily inside.

"Suzie told me you'd moved, she said, walking over to the large window in the living room. "Nice view of the river."

"Thanks," Nina said, hating the fact that her voice still sounded so timid.

"So is Mommy Dearest home?" Lily asked, and Nina had to smile at the reference. She hadn't spoken to her mother much since moving out; just a few quick phone calls once or twice a week.

"Mommy Dearest doesn't live here," Nina replied, now beginning to wonder why Lily had shown up at her door unannounced.

"Really," Lily said. "That's good, God knows you needed to get her out of your hair. Anyway, I just came by to see if you wanted to go out and have lunch with me."

Nina weighed her options for a minute. She was glad that she was on better terms with Lily these days. She was the complete opposite of Nina in many respects; the quintessential Wild Child, while Nina was demure, even timid. But she was fun to be around, and fun had been something that had been missing from Nina's life for far too long.

"One condition, alright?" Nina said, and Lily nodded expectantly. "No Ecstasy."

An hour later the two dancers were at an Indian restaurant on 46th street, just off of Times Square. Nina had never tried Indian food before. It had been Lily's suggestion, and Nina had discovered that she loved the foreign flavors and the exotic spices, all of which Lily happily described to her.

"How do you know so much about Indian cuisine?" Nina asked, for the first time, genuinely enjoying the other girl's company.

"I'm kinda surprised you don't." Lily replied. "I mean, California isn't exactly Hicksville, but this is New York City. Ethnic everything, including food, is a way of life."

"Well, let's just say that most my time has been spent in a studio at Lincoln Center," Nina admitted quietly, the words more true than even she would have liked to believe. She had lived in New York City her entire life, but her life had been so utterly consumed by ballet that she hadn't truly seen much of it. Even the traveling she'd done, both domestic and international, had been for engagements, and the demanding schedule of rehearsals had kept her from really taking any of it in.

"Mmmmm," Lily said, clicking her tongue reprovingly. "Well, we'll have to fix that, won't we?"

"Sorry?" Nina asked, not completely understanding what Lily was getting at.

"I've only been in New York for a couple of months. Sounds like you've lived here your entire life without seeing much of it. It's perfect. Meaning, one of these days you and I are gonna hit the town," Lily grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Nina didn't quite like to consider what Lily's idea of "Hitting the town" was. More than likely, she thought, it would involve something licentious, illegal or both. Even the thought of participating caused a hot blush to light up her throat. "What's that you're drinking?" Nina asked to change the subject.

"This? This is strawberry lassi. It's made from strawberries, yogurt, milk, and and Indian rum. Want to try some?" Lily asked sweetly. Nina considered for a moment. She usually avoided alcohol; It just wouldn't do to show up at rehearsals hung over. On the other hand, it just might be what she needed to help her to loosen up. She gestured, and the waiter dutifully scurried over to their table.

"Could I get one of those strawberry lassis. please?" Nina requested.

"Alcoholic, or non-alcoholic?" The waiter asked.

"Alcoholic," Nina responded, surprising herself with her uncharacteristic self-assurance.

Two hours and four more lassis' each later, Nina and Lily were both giggling like schoolgirls. Nina couldn't honestly recall the last time she'd had so much to drink, but she was more relaxed than she'd been since she had been appointed the company's principle. Hell, she was more relaxed than she'd been since she'd joined the company in the first place.

"So, I asked you once, and you never responded. How is he?" Lily asked.

"Who?" Nina was already in an alcohol induced fog. Now, she was genuinely confused.

"Thomas!" Lily almost shouted, as though it should have been completely obvious. Nina was suddenly overtaken by another fit of giggles.

"He's a good kisser," She choked out through hiccups of laughter, eliciting more giggles from Lily. "Truthfully, I can't vouch for how he is in the sack."

"What, you're kidding, right?" Lily said, an incredulous eyebrow raising. "You've never fucked him?"

Nina just shook her head, more laughter bubbling up, Lily losing control of her own.

"I can't believe it," Lily said between fits of giggles. "I was so sure that you and he were-"

"Sorry to disappoint." Nina shrugged in mock sorrow. "Okay, my turn. Why did you leave San Francisco?"

"California's too damn sunny," Lily replied. Nina shot her a reproachful look. "Truthfully?" Lily said, the laughter dying on her lips. "I slept with the director, who is incredibly hot, incredibly good, if you catch my drift, and incredibly married. His wife caught wind of it. It was either come out here or have her making my life a living hell." Lily related the story of her fall from grace at the San Francisco Ballet with surprisingly little emotion.

"Wow," Nina breathed softly, unsure of what else she could say. She wasn't exactly surprised; sleeping with a married man was exactly the sort of thing Lily would do.

"Hey, what are you gonna do?" Lily replied. "I knew he was married at the time. It was pretty clear what the eventual outcome was gonna be. So tell me something; did this drag you away from ballet for a few hours?" Lily asked. Nina nodded. "Good, then it accomplished exactly what I was hoping it would. Thomas told me you've been having some trouble in rehearsals. I thought you could use a break, she said.

"I never thought I'd catch myself dead saying this, but I actually did." Nina admitted, as much to herself as to Lily. She loved ballet, but she had been in desperate need of a distraction. "My Black Swan's falling to hell," She grumbled.

"You were incredible the night of the performance," Lily offered.

"Thanks," Nina sighed heavily, beginning to sober up. "But I'm pretty much right back to where I started."

"You have what it takes, Nina," Lily said, reaching out a hand and gently placing it on Nina's shoulder.

"So do you," Nina pointed out. "So do any of the other girls."

"No we don't, Nina. We're all good. We wouldn't be in the company if we weren't. But you're the best, and everybody knows it. Why do you think Veronica has been such a little bitch ever since you were cast?" Nina was growing uncomfortable under Lily's scrutiny, and began to fidget in her seat. Lily sighed. "You just have to find that place inside yourself again."

"I know, but-"

"But what, Nina?" Lily asked.

"It nearly killed me," Nina whispered.

Lily nodded slowly. "Well, we can't have that, now, can we?"

A few minutes later they signed the check and went their separate ways. Nina was waiting on the subway platform for the train when she caught sight of another woman out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to glance at her, and was greeted by the sight of her own face, her own body dressed in macabre black clothing, heavily shadowed eyes for the briefest of instants flashing orange.


	7. Chapter 7: Dual Swans

"You don't understand!" Nina moaned. "I'm seeing things I shouldn't see!" It was the first of her bi-weekly psychotherapy appointments, and Nina was only now alarmed enough by the persistent hallucinations to disclose them to the woman who had been treating her for the past three weeks. Lauren Isles, Ph.D. was a tall, slim woman with a veritable tornado of auburn curls and expressive green eyes, in perhaps her late twenties, clearly just out of school. Nina had been mistrustful of her at first, which, she supposed, was only natural, but after a few weeks she had eventually warmed up to the fiery-haired woman. Not that the work itself was a particularly pleasant process. As it was, Nina had doubled over onto the woman's couch, curling into the fetal position, clutching one of the pillows to her chest like a life-preserver.

"You seem pretty scared," Lauren observed, her voice calm and measured in contrast to Nina's near hysteria.

Nina nodded numbly. "This was supposed to be over once I'd performed. I thought I was done with this," she whispered miserably.

"But you're on stage again in about eighteen weeks, and from what you've told me, rehearsals have been somewhat frustrating for you. Sounds to me like you've been under a lot of pressure." As usual, Lauren had summed up Nina's jumbled emotions more clearly than she herself could.

"The thought of dancing this role again…" Nina's voice trailed off. She couldn't quite vocalize the terror that seemed to suck the very air from her lungs every time she thought of taking the stage as the Swan Queen.

"Tell me the story of Swan Lake," Lauren commanded.

Nina exhaled to calm herself. "It's about a girl named Odette who's turned into a white swan by a sorcerer named Rothbart, and she needs true love to break the spell. She meets a prince named Siegfried. They fall in love." Nina drew in a deep, shuddering breath before continuing the tale of the doomed lovers. "But Rothbart's daughter Odile, the Black Swan, looks exactly like Odette. She seduces and tricks the prince, so the spell can never be broken. She kills herself." Lauren nodded, seeming to consider the tale.

"You've told me that the same ballerina dances the roles of Odette and Odile. It sounds like it's not easy to dance both roles."

"No," Nina responded. "Odette is sweet and innocent. Odile is aggressive and sexual. Seductive, even. It's incredibly difficult to play two characters who are so radically different," Nina said.

"Well, I'll bet that connecting to Odette was easy enough," Lauren said with a smile.

Nina offered a wan smile in return. "It was. Odette's always come very naturally to me. Odile on the other hand…" Nina trailed off.

"Was far more stressful," Lauren vocalized the implicit statement. "From what I've heard, you gave a pretty spectacular performance that night," she said. Nina smiled shyly.

"Thanks," She whispered.

"So you certainly managed to tap into _something _todance the part as well as you did," Lauren continued.

"I did," Nina said faintly. "I had to access a part of myself that I didn't even know I had. I think that's why the hallucinations started."

"Mmmmmm," Lauren nodded non-committaly. "It wouldn't surprise me. I'm hearing a bit of ambivalence there. I could be wrong about this, but it doesn't sound like you're too terribly comfortable with that part of yourself," she said, rather tentatively, Nina noticed.

"No," she admitted softly. "I'm scared of those tendencies, scared to death. Particularly now. I mean, I've hurt just about everyone around me. My mother….Lily, my alternate. I became pretty paranoid that she was trying to sabotage me. The night of the performance I hallucinated her being in my dressing room after the first act, trying to take my place as the Black Swan. We fought. I stabbed her with a piece of broken glass from the mirror….." Nina's voice trailed off as she related the story. She paused, taking a moment to gather her reserve for what came next. "As it turns out, she was never in my dressing room at all. I stabbed myself, not her. I passed out from the blood loss right after the finale."

"Sounds to me like that little incident didn't do a whole lot to bolster confidence in the Odile part of yourself," Lauren observed.

Nina almost laughed in bitterness. "No, " She concurred.

"So look at your situation now. You're dancing the part again. You've connected to that side of yourself, but you haven't really made peace with it. Is that about right?" Lauren asked.

"Yeah," Nina mumbled miserably, but she had to admit that the woman's words had struck a chord.

"But of course, you need it to dance this part. You're under a huge amount of pressure from your director and from yourself to nail this performance, which, as the lead, falls largely on you. And the last time you did, you hurt yourself and people you care about. That's a huge burden for anyone to carry. Is it any wonder that these hallucinations have started up again, given all that?"

Nina hadn't really considered her situation from that angle, but once again, the woman's words rang true . "I guess not," she quietly confessed.

"Not that it makes them any less frightening," Lauren continued.

"No," Nina whispered.

"The good news is that you've expressed pretty clearly that you don't want to hurt yourself anymore. That's actually really hopeful," Lauren offered.

Nina nodded slowly. "I want to dance this part. More than anything," She said. "But not if it means dying or hurting someone else." It was perhaps the first time since she had learned during her hospitalization that she would be dancing the role again that she had been able to vocalize her jumbled fears and desires with any degree of clarity.

"So how do we help you do that?" Lauren asked quietly.

"I guess…" Nina trailed off, the thought coalescing in her mind into something articulable. "I have to find some way of becoming more comfortable with the Odile part of myself."

"I think so," Lauren agreed. "My take on all of this is that once that happens you'll have a much better idea of how to control it." She quickly glanced at the clock. "Well, we're out of time for today. Same time same place on Thursday?" She asked, and Nina nodded in assent. She quickly scribbled out a check and left the office, the door snapping shut behind her.

Later that night, once she'd finally arrived home from work, Nina lay curled up on the sofa in her living room idlely flipping through the channels on the television and taking in none of them. She felt restless and agitated for reasons she couldn't quite comprehend, and soon switched off the television after yet another fruitless pass through the stations. She picked up the novel she had been inching through for the past several months, hoping that it would help to calm her rattled nerves. It wasn't by any means the most literary of works, but it was engaging enough, and it usually helped her to take her mind off of her problems for a few short hours. Tonight, however, Nina barely read through a paragraph before reluctantly admitting to herself that she'd read over the same sentence several times without taking in a word of it. She put the book aside in frustration, resigned to spending the rest of the night wrestling with her troublesome thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8: Overhaul

Nina woke up the next morning after having passed a fitful night full of jumbled dreams whose images she couldn't fit together into any sort of logical pattern. She groaned and reluctantly tore herself out of bed, padding into the bathroom in her bare feet, dimly aware of the fact that her limbs felt like they were made of lead and that her eyelids each felt like they had fifty pound weights attached to them. She flipped on the bathroom light, groaning as the harsh fluorescent glare hit fully dilated pupils, and gasped when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, framed by deep purple shadows. Her skin had a waxy, almost jaundiced pallor, and the hollows under her cheeks were, if anything, more pronounced than the previous day.

"Great," Nina thought bitterly. "Just great. I look like death."

Well, not much she could do about it. She splashed some water on her face in an attempt to revive herself, ran a shower as hot as she could stand it, and hurriedly dressed for work, coiling her hair into its customary bun on the train to Lincoln Center.

David was already waiting for her in the principle's studio when she entered, Thomas in his customary seat to the left of the large mirror.

"Are you warmed up?" He asked curtly, and Nina nodded in affirmation. "Good, let's get to work on the black swan variation." Nina obediently took her place beside David. It seemed she had barely started when Thomas' French-accented voice cracked the air like a whip. "Nina! Nina, you're dancing like a frigid old widow!" Nina closed her eyes, allowing Tchaikovsky's music to lift her up, fill her soul, and was almost immediately rewarded with a feeling of fluidity and grace which had previously been lacking. "Nina, for Christ's sake, this is about seduction, not looking pretty!" Thomas called out sharply. Nina couldn't decide if she should scream in frustration or snarl in anger. But still she persisted, throwing herself into the coda with uncharacteristic abandon. The steps came in a flurry of almost frightening violence, and for that brief instant, Nina could almost hear the black swan snarling in rage deep within the confines of her mind. But still Nina could not release her, could not forgive her for the chaos that was now a part of her daily reality. She spun to a stop, panting with exertion and barely contained umbrage. She turned to Thomas, who was eyeing her, irritation evident in the set of his jaw. He blew out a disappointed sigh. "Nina, I don't understand…" He trailed off. But before he could go any farther, his cell phone rang, and he exited the studio speaking rapidly in French. Nina turned to David.

"Look, Nina," he said. "For what it's worth, you were spectacular the night of the performance. You have what it takes; you just have to quit fighting it." David spun on his heels, and he too left the studio, leaving Nina alone to wrestle with her thoughts.

"What a prick!" Lily exclaimed loudly, attracting scandalized glares from several of the fellow patrons at the Lebanese restaurant they had chosen for their shared dinner.

"Keep it down!" Nina hissed under her breath, casting apologetic glances in the general direction of the offended customers.

"What a prick!" Lily repeated, thankfully this time reducing the sonority by a considerable amount. "Look, you gave an awesome performance, he has no reason whatsoever to doubt you," She said, taking a long, deep drag off of the raspberry flavored Hookah she'd ordered to compliment the meal and expelling it in a carcinogenic cloud around her face.

"I'm _giving_ him reason to doubt me, Lily," Nina protested. "Whatever it was that I tapped into that night, I haven't been able to do it since," she said miserably. Lily nodded her head slowly.

"You mean you've just been scared as shit to access it since," Lily countered. "There's a difference." She sat back in her chair, and Nina could almost feel the girl's gaze piercing through her to her very soul. "You know, Nina, you just need to get more fun out of life," Lily observed, offering Nina the hose of the Hookah.

"What is it?" Nina asked suspiciously.

"It's Hashish," Lily quipped sarcastically. Nina's head shot up, and she fixed a wide-eyed stare on Lily, utterly horrified. Lily just laughed. "Jesus, relax. It's just raspberry flavored tobacco. Nothing illegal. Try it." Nina hesitantly took the tube and replaced the plastic tip, inserting it into her mouth and sucking deeply. Almost immediately she felt as though her chest was exploding. The offending smoke was ejected in harsh, racking coughs, and Lily patted Nina's back until the coughing fit subsided, laughing. "I can teach you, you know," She said, her voice laden with amusement. "Here, try it again, but this time inhale slowly but at a steady rate." Nina complied, and this time it went down smoothly. Much to Nina's surprise and delight, she discovered that it actually had a pleasant taste.

"This is good!" Nina exclaimed, taking another hit.

"It is, isn't it?" Lily said, sounding thoroughly pleased with herself. "Just be careful with it. This is good stuff; high quality tobacco, probably straight from somewhere in the Middle East. If you go to a regular Hookah café, they usually give you this cheap shit that tastes like charcoal and will have you puking up your kidneys for hours."

"I'll bear that in mind." Nina replied. "So tell me, where did you learn this?"

"Me? I'm from San Francisco, babe. You wanna know about anything dangerous, immoral, or just plain illegal, I'm your girl," She laughed. "Or at least that's part of it. My dad's Jordanian. Mom's Dutch. I went to Amman with Dad just before coming to New York. The locals make something of a pastime out of Hookah." Nina was fascinated; she had wondered for months about Lily's bronze complexion and exotic features. Now she had her answer. "Okay, your turn," Lily broke in. "What's the story with your mom?"

For an instant, Nina wanted to collapse in on herself and disappear. But Lily was fixing her with another one of those penetrating stares, the type that suggested that lying would be detected with all the ease of changing socks, and so resigned, she sighed. "She was a dancer when she was our age," Nina started, and Lily nodded enthusiastically. "She wasn't very good, truthfully; never made it out of the _corps_. And then, when she was twenty eight she got pregnant with me, and had to leave dance." Nina paused, trying to put into words her complicated relationship with her mother. "Well, I guess she figured that if she couldn't be a star, being the mother of one was the next best thing. I started dancing almost as soon as I could walk," Nina said. Lily seemed to consider this.

"Do you even like ballet?" She asked, and Nina had to admit that it was a provocative question. After a moment's hesitation, she came up with her answer.

"Yes, I love it," she said.

"Then why do you fight it so hard?" Lily asked. Nina, not for the first time in Lily's presence, was rendered utterly and completely speechless.

Again, Lily considered Nina. "Say, what are you doing this Saturday?" She asked.

"Nothing of importance. Why?"

"We need to take you shopping," Lily stated.

"But I have plenty of clothes," Nina protested.

"I know you do, but how can I put this…" Lily paused, more for dramatic effect than for the sake of tact, Nina sensed. "I went to a Catholic school for five years. The nuns wore hotter stuff than you," Lily stated frankly. Nina spluttered a bit. "Come on, Nina, you're a beautiful girl, and it's time you started to dress like it."

Nina honestly had no idea how to respond. When she wasn't wearing dancing attire she was to be found in a drab array of greys and whites, usually with her pale wool overcoat disguising any shape the clothes may have displayed.

"So waddya say?" Lily asked. "Saturday you and I hit the mall and give your wardrobe a major overhaul, deal?" She held out her hand.

"Deal," Nina replied reluctantly, shaking it.


	9. Chapter 9: Alarm

Come Saturday, Nina was exhausted after being dragged by Lily into what felt like every clothing store in Manhattan. Although, she had to admit to herself, she was having a good time being fussed over. She had initially been reluctant to allow Lily to redesign her wardrobe, but after a while, even Nina had to admit that Lily's taste in clothing was impeccable, if breaking significantly from her own. Instead of the monochromatic attire that Nina usually chose for herself, Lily had selected an array of brightly colored jewel tones and soft pastels. Nina turned in her dressing room at Charlotte Russe examining the sleeveless top she currently wore. It was a deep, almost blood red with a plunging neckline and embossed with rhinestones that formed a pattern of intertwining roses. A pair of skintight black pants completed the ensemble.

"Nina!" Lily called. "You done?"

"Just a second!" Nina called, unlocking the dressing room. She stepped out, and twirled around theatrically. Lily whistled.

"Whoa, that outfit's definitely you," Lily said, an eyebrow raised appreciatively.

"You think?" Nina asked, somewhat shyly. She frequently wore little more than a leotard and leggings, but the somewhat risqué outfit she now wore made her feel almost naked.

"Sure!" Lily chirped enthusiastically. "Come on, Nina, for God's sake, it's not like you haven't been seen wearing a hell of a lot less." Once again Lily unnerved Nina with her ability to accurately judge her moods. She glanced at Lily, who smirked in response. Nina felt herself flush under her wilder friend's scrutiny, and quickly ducked into her dressing room. A few minutes later she rang up her purchases and added the bags embossed with the Express logo to the plethora of other parcels she and Lily were carrying between the two of them.

"Okay, one more stop," Lily announced, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Nina could have sworn that she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

"What?" She asked, doing the best she could to keep the trepidation out of her voice.

"Well….." Lily said slowly, obviously doing her best to make Nina squirm, and succeeding magnificently. "We have the tops, the pants, a few nice skirts, and some shoes. All that's left is…" she again trailed off, and Nina held her breath. "Underwear." For the second time that day, Nina felt the blood rise to her face. Lily doubled over with laughter. "Come on, Nina," she said. "It's not like you don't wear it already!"

"Of course I do, but that doesn't mean I like shopping for it!" Nina retorted.

"So what are you gonna do, buy it online?" Lily deftly countered. Nina looked down; guilty-as-charged.

"Oh…my….god. Oh my god, omiGOD!" Lily squealed. "You totally do! I can't believe it!" Nina shushed her angrily. "Okay," Lily said, "We've got to teach you how to do this right," Lily stated, and before Nina could quite process what was happening, Lily grabbed her by the arm and began dragging her through the mall. A few minutes later, she was shoved through the door of Victoria's Secret, Lily's clucking overriding her weak mewls of protest. A smiling, short haired saleswoman of possibly Chinese ancestry approached them.

"Hello, ladies, how can I help you?" She chirped. Lily clamped her hands on both of Nina's shoulders.

"Nina here needs some new undies," She said, a wicked smile lighting up her face. "She needs some basic, everyday things, and then she needs to try on some of your sexier stuff." Nina's insides twisted uncomfortably, and at that moment she fervently wished that she could evaporate through the floorboards. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lily shoot her a glance. "She's a little shy," Lily said to the saleswoman, Alice, the nametag read. Alice smiled at Lily, and now Nina had the distinct impression that the two of them were ganging up on her.

"No problem, we'll get you sorted out," she said to Nina. "Come on," she gestured, and Lily deftly passed Nina into Alice's hands. Alice seemingly from nowhere produced a tape measure and proceeded to apply it to parts of her body that Nina would just have assumed she'd left well enough alone. Alice then proceeded to drag her through the store, grabbing items off the shelves that Nina wouldn't have chosen if she'd been on one of Lily's all weekend Ecstasy benders. Alice then led her into a dressing room, hanging the items on a hook.

"Have fun," she said, offering a knowing wink, pulling the door shut behind her, which Nina quickly locked. She turned around to face the dressing empty dressing room, and the brightly colored undergarments that awaited her. Now that she was alone, she had to admit that the bright colors and patterns appealed to her. In fact, she was thoroughly enraptured. A soft smile lit up her face as she ran her fingers over a soft lavender bra with a butterfly print, and without another thought, threw herself into trying it on. She turned about in the mirror examining her reflection. She felt…..different somehow, more confident, more grown up. For the first time in her life, Nina Sayers felt….sexy.

A few minutes later, she and Lily linked elbows and exited the Victoria's Secret, laughing. "See, was that so bad?" Lily quipped.

"Definitely not," Nina concurred. "I can't believe I let you talk me into that."

"And I can't believe you buy your underwear online," Lily returned. Nina had to burst out laughing-she had to admit, it had been borderline puerile behavior.

"It seems kind of silly now," Nina laughed. "Come on, let's dump this stuff in the car, my arms are about to fall off."

"Definitely. And after that we stop at one of the department stores and we both get our makeup done," Lily said, a statement rather than a request.

"I don't know if my poor credit card can handle any more of this without melting," Nina replied.

"Well, you can't keep swiping Beth's lipstick. At some point you're gonna have to buy some of your own," Lily pointed out. Nina was shocked. She was so sure that nobody had known about her petty theft of Beth's possessions.

"I returned it!" Nina protested.

"I know you did," Lily replied. "Beth has the scarred up face to prove it." Nina stopped dead in her tracks.

"How did she end up with scars?" Nina asked. Lily looked at her quizzically.

"You don't know?" She asked. Nina shook her head. "She stabbed herself with a nail file three times," Lily replied. "I thought you were with her at the time."

So that explained it. Nina searched her memory, trying to fit this new piece of information into the jigsaw puzzle that had become her reality. She remembered Beth stabbing herself, viciously spitting out that she was nothing. Nina had wrestled the nail file out of her grasp. But she had continued to stab herself, hadn't she? No, Nina had seen her own face instead of Beth's, and she had fled the room as fast as she could, only to realize in the elevator that she was holding the nail file and that her hands were covered in Beth's blood. So, that meant that Beth _had_ stabbed herself, and Nina had snatched the nail file away. Everything that followed had been a figment of her own fractured imagination. An involuntary shudder coursed down her spine.

"Nina?" Lily asked tentatively. "You okay?"

Nina forced a bright smile. "I'm fine," she replied.

"You sure? If I had a dollar for every time you've said you're fine when you're not I wouldn't have to work for Thomas anymore," Lily said, eyeing Nina suspiciously.

"I'm fine, I promise. Let's just dump this stuff," Nina replied.

Nina arrived back at her apartment later that evening, and immediately dumped the shopping bags in her bedroom. It was nearly seven, so she dialed the number of a sushi restaurant down the street that she knew delivered, and quickly placed an order, digging into her purse for cash and setting it on the counter beside the door. She then headed into her bedroom and changed into one of the new outfits she had purchased; a pair of dark denim capris and a tightly fitted white lace blouse. Smiling, she went into her studio to examine the ensemble. It showcased her body perfectly; tight, but not overly so, clinging as though it had been cut for her. The sleeves were a sheer lace, and thin satin ribbons had been sewn onto the bodice to create the illusion of boning. Nina had fallen in love with the top almost immediately, in spite of Lily's protests that she already wore too much white, and she'd been adamant about purchasing it. She wondered what Lily would say now.

She glanced one more time at the top before turning to leave, but then did a double take. A dark red stain had appeared over her abdomen, and was spreading at an alarming rate, soaking the shirt and sending rivulets of dark fluid down onto the pants. Nina tore off the shirt, beginning to panic. Blood spurted fourth from her abdomen, from the place where she knew the shard of mirror had pierced it. Instinctively, she clasped her hand over the wound, and the warm liquid gushed fourth from between her fingers. A shrill scream built up in her throat as she frantically wiped it away, trying to find the source, but found none. Her abdomen was thoroughly smeared with her own blood, and still, more continued to pour fourth, a gruesome geyser that pumped her life away with every beat of her heart. The capris were now completely saturated with it, the blood now spilling onto the wooden floors. Nina finally let out the scream that had been threatening to tear fourth from her, brutally slashing through the silence of the apartment

Quite suddenly, the doorbell chimed. Nina quickly glanced towards the door, and then back down at herself, her breath hitching. She was standing in one of her new bras and spotlessly new capris. Her skin shown translucently white, bathed in the incandescent glow of the halogen track lighting she'd installed. The floors were immaculate, the pristine white top in a heap where she had discarded it. All traces of the gore were gone.


	10. Chapter 10: Acceptance

**A/N: I'm Baaaaaack! Sorry to have kept you guys waiting for so long, I got caught up in the demands of Grad Psych school. I'll try to update more frequently now that things have calmed down somewhat, I promise. On another note, a giant thanks to those who have read and reviewed my work. Keep 'em coming guys!**

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If a dozen members of a SWAT team had had their rifles trained on her Nina could not have been more terrified. She stood rooted to the spot, hands still clutching her abdomen, seconds before seemingly awash in a crimson nightmare, now only displaying smooth, pale skin and the familiar ridge of scar tissue. She drew in a deep breath and held it, repeating a deep-breathing exercise she had been taught by her therapist that supposedly helped to calm rattled nerves, but this time she felt her chest tighten and her throat constrict. The long exhale that should have followed erupted instead in a ragged sob, and she sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest, convulsions wracking her body.

The insistent ringing of the doorbell finally penetrated her consciousness, and Nina forced herself up, palming away the tears that ran down her face. Grabbing the blouse and pulling it on, she went to answer the door, and to her shock was met by a courier from the sushi restaurant. Of course. In her panic, Nina had completely forgotten the fact that she'd ordered dinner.

"Did you order sushi, miss?" He asked, seemingly oblivious to the panic racing through his customer's veins. Nina forced a smile in response; one that she was sure didn't reach her eyes.

"Yes, thanks," Nina said, shoving the twenty dollar bill she'd set aside into his hands, and barely listened as he itemized the receipt. "Keep the change," She mumbled, shutting the door as he stammered his thanks.

A few minutes later Nina sat at her kitchen table, grimly forcing slices of shrimp _nigiri_ down her throat, barely tasting them. She'd calmed down somewhat, or at least the utter panic she'd felt minutes before had subsided enough for her to think with a measure of clarity. The hallucinations were escalating again, that much was obvious to Nina, becoming increasingly violent as Thomas steadily ratcheted up the pressure upon her to deliver the perfect performance he all but demanded. Well, she'd done it once, and strangely enough, Nina thought, it had been the very hallucinations that had driven her to the brink of madness that had helped her to tap into the emotional resources she'd needed to dance the Odile variation. Of course, they'd also driven her to commit an act that had nearly killed her, so the fact that she'd given the performance of a lifetime was ultimately cold comfort. Nina sighed, raking her fingers through her hair, fighting the almost overwhelming urge to rip it out in frustration. She wanted to scream out; she had spent nearly every waking moment since the premiere trying to put the pieces of her fractured mind back together again, and for all the effort, she was really no closer to laying her demons to rest than she'd been when she'd regained consciousness in the hospital all those weeks ago. Nina dropped her head and drew her knees up to her chest, allowing herself to give in to the suffocating fear that threatened to consume her. But then again, Nina thought, in a burst of startling clarity, that was what she had been doing all along, wasn't it? Ever since the hallucinations had started, she had ignored them, run away, screamed in terror, done anything but actually face them, face_ herself_. Perhaps it was time she started. Perhaps it was time to fight back.

"Sounds to me like a pretty terrifying experience," Lauren Isles said grimly after Nina had related to her this latest hallucination. Nina nodded, numbly.

"The last few- the ones of myself dressed as Odile, they've frightened me, but I knew that what I was seeing wasn't real. This one….." Nina trailed off.

"You couldn't distinguish as being a hallucination. With the others, at least you could identify them as hallucinations. This one you couldn't, which meant that it scared you that much more," Lauren offered. Nina nodded numbly.

"I just wish I knew what to do about it," Nina whispered. "I can't go on like this anymore. I'm losing weight- the last time I looked in the mirror I swear I almost didn't recognize my own face. I haven't slept well in months."

Lauren tilted her head somewhat, and Nina felt herself growing uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

"You know," Lauren said slowly, "I can hear how scared you are. You went through some pretty awful crap a few weeks ago, and you're going through it again right now."

Nina nodded miserably. "It's getting worse," she whispered. "I damn near had a mental breakdown a few weeks ago. Half the time I couldn't tell if what I was seeing was real or if it was all in my head. I'm getting to that point again."

Lauren nodded. "You feel like you're headed right back to where you were, does that about cover things?" She asked. Nina's throat closed, and she could do nothing but nod in response. Lauren quickly handed her a tissue and sat back in her chair, drawing in a long breath and blowing it out in a sigh. "Tell me something," she continued. Nina again nodded. "We've kind of established that you're pretty darn terrified of some of your, shall we say, more aggressive impulses. Why is that?"

Nina looked up almost in shock. Was it not obvious? "I've _hurt_ people, Dr. Isles!" She snapped.  
"I almost killed myself!"

Lauren's gaze was steady, letting Nina know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't the least bit phased by her outburst. "I can appreciate that," she said. "The thing is, Nina, you're not the only one with those feelings. Everyone has them, it's just a part of being human. Freud called it the Id," she said.

Nina had never heard the term before. "Id?" she asked.

Lauren shrugged. "The easiest way to think of it is like an iceberg. You know how ninety percent of an iceberg is actually below the water?" She asked. Nina nodded. "Well, our mental life isn't a whole lot different. What we're aware of is only a small part of what's actually going on inside of us. The good news is that we can become more and more aware of what's happening below the waterline, so to speak. And once we are, we can make better choices. The problem is that it's usually a pretty frightening process, and some folks just aren't up to it. So they run from it instead, and the more they run, the more control it has over them."

Nina was by now utterly lost. "I get the analogy, kind of," she said. "But what has it got to do with anything?" She asked.

"I was hoping you'd ask," Laruen smiled. "My point is that you're scared of what's below the waterline, the Odile part of yourself. You're not exactly kind to her."

Small tumblers of a puzzle began to click into place for Nina. "So the kinder I am to her, the more I can accept her, the less she'll need to get my attention through bizarre hallucinations," Nina finished.

Lauren's smile widened. "Bingo," She said.


End file.
